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Dyl had not been lying when he claimed that he fell into situations like this. It was absolutely not his fault that he had a penchant for getting kidnapped. Something about him just egged criminals on to knock him upside the head and take him hostage.
He pointedly ignored that most of the time, it was something he said at the wrong time that heavily contributed to the fact that he was taken hostage. His sarcastic attitude and love of making fun of people obviously had nothing to do with criminals hating him. That was neither here nor there.
It was also neither here nor there that when the robbers came into the bank, guns blazing, Dyl’s first response was “Hey, that’s not fair! I haven’t been helped yet!” This was Gotham. That was a completely reasonable thing to say, as most citizens of this forsaken city had been part of something similar at least three times in their lives.
Dyl’s words—or more accurately, his curse of being a Prime Target—landed him at the feet of the bank robbers. Literally all the other hostages were on the other side of the room. He was also the only one not tied up, so there were bright sides. If having a gun aimed at his head instead of his hands zip tied behind his back was a bright side.
It did mean that Dyl could likely get out of this situation with no need of interference from Jason, which was good. He hadn’t seen the guy in a few days (Boo!) thanks to the Red Hood being on some kind of mission. Dyl did not want to have to cut that short by being in a difficult situation and needing saving again.
Never mind the fact that Dyl would absolutely not be opposed to Jason coming in and getting Dyl out of this situation. Not only for the fact that Dyl just missed seeing his friend, but also that he didn’t really want to get out of this by himself. He had gotten used to Jason’s micromanagement of checking on him and saving him when need be. It was just so much easier to have a vigilante do the saving than anything else.
Besides, technically this did not break the Jason Paranoia Perimeters. Dyl was exactly where he said he would be! It wasn’t his fault that his bank happened to be robbed when he was here.
(It might have been a little his fault. He could hear Jason now: “Who in their right mind would go to a bank when its closing? It’s winter! The sun is set! That’s prime criminal time” or whatever.)
The point was that Dyl probably couldn’t rely on Jason randomly checking if there was a crime happening at Dyl’s current location while the man was out on a mission. It wasn’t like Jason had some sort of internal radar when Dyl needed to be saved. That was preposterous. His friend was just paranoid in a very lovable way.
Dyl just had to use his training so that the Bats had no reason to come interfere. Simple. Incredibly so. It was… fine. Dyl needed to find the perfect opportunity to grab the muzzle of the riffle that was currently pointed at him, shift it away, then spring up and absolutely deck the guy who was charged with watching him. Then he could use said gun to get the other bank robbers neutralized until the very slow, very incompetent GCPD responded to the silent alarm that Dyl saw a teller press.
It really shouldn’t be that hard. Never mind that the room was swimming a little bit. Dyl wasn’t even concussed! He should be perfectly able to execute a simple take down, whether he was on his ‘peacefulness’ kick or not.
The only slight, minuscule, tiny problem was that they definitely had some sort of chemical on the rag that they had shoved in Dyl’s mouth to get him to shut up. It was making him woozy, and completely unable to quip by the way. He probably could have gotten himself out from under the robber’s careful watch if he just had the ability to talk. A few minutes of hopelessly annoying the guy would have been enough to get him distracted so Dyl could run. But no! They didn’t like the litany of sarcastic words that Dyl had to say previously, so they made sure that Dyl couldn’t go about saying more.
Dyl hadn’t spit it out yet purely because the last time he tried, the robber stuck the end of his gun right onto his temple until Dyl stopped moving again. Sue him, but Dyl didn’t want to repeat that.
The gunman Dyl was sitting next to was looking over at the progress his fellow criminals were making on the large safe. Right now would be a perfect time for Dyl to start actively doing something about this hostage situation. He shifted slightly as a test, just to make sure that the guy was really distracted. When the gunman didn’t look Dyl’s way, he started moving his hands closer to the gun.
Before Dyl could make even a bit of progress, he saw something dark move in the rafters out of the corner of his eye.
Dyl tensed. He didn’t hear the distinctive grapple sound, which was weird, but he contributed that to the fact that the ceiling was high and Jason probably just lowered himself down in from a skylight.
But! That wasn’t the point. Jason was so not supposed to be here. Dyl could definitely handle this himself! He just needed a few more minutes and everything would be fine. Jason didn’t need to cut his mission short for this.
Unfortunately, Dyl couldn’t exactly say this out loud. He didn’t want to risk calling attention to the vigilante on the ceiling.
Instead, Dyl carefully tried to put his hands back onto his lap. If Jason was here, Dyl didn’t want to accidentally mess up whatever plan the Bat had. Which was unfortunate, because the fumes of the rag in his mouth were really starting to get to him. Dyl would confess that was half of the reason why he chose now to move in on his own personal plan. He didn’t know how much longer he could peacefully sit here on the floor with out losing his mental facilities completely.
He should have done something sooner. But again—the stupid chemicals. It had taken a minute to outline Dyl’s impressive escape plan.
The robbers by the safe all noticed their new audience at the same time. Dyl was much too far away to see what Jason did to catch their attention. And, quite unfortunately, the attention of Dyl’s gunman as well.
Normally this would be exactly what Dyl wanted. But it was unfortunate with the fact that Dyl’s robber was facing the other way and had to turn suddenly to see what was happening to his cohorts. In his turn, he was very unaware of both where Dyl was and where his gun was pointing. Which lead to Dyl getting his face absolutely smashed by the barrel of the gun.
Dyl fell to the floor completely undignified. There was a ringing in his ears as pain split across his cheek. The plus side was that the rag was dislodged, though! And his gunman’s attention was completely stolen—so much so that he moved away from his post to go confront Jason with the rest of the robbers. This allowed Dyl to fully remove the rag and take a nice deep breath of un-chemical air.
Oh how he missed sweet, sweet air.
Despite how bright it was inside of the bank, Dyl decided to just close his eyes for a second. The gunshots were no matter; Jason would be fine. Dyl just wanted to rest for a second while his friend took care of the threat. Besides, he was already on the floor. Better to pretend to be unconscious to dissuade being made into a human shield and all that. That was not a fun experience.
Eventually the fighting died down until the last robber fell unconscious with a heavy grunt. That was good. That meant that Dyl could get out of here soon, and hopefully into a bed. His head was swimming and a nap sounded like the best idea right now.
Footsteps sounded until they stopped right in front of Dyl. They didn’t sound exactly how Dyl expected; Jason must have been hurt or something.
Dyl cracked his eyes open to see those stupid shoulders and a wisp of black hair before he promptly shut them again. Stupid banks and their stupid florescent lighting made his eyes hurt.
“You alive?” Jason asked. It sounded weird. Not only did it not have the modulation that the Red Hood was known for, but the tone was also a little off. A little too high. Maybe Jason was hurt.
Dyl settled for incoherent groaning. He really wanted that nap. Too bad it was much too bright in here. Again, stupid florescent lighting.
“Yeah, okay,” Jason replied. There was the sound of something being holstered—his crowbar probably. It also sounded weird; much too smooth. “All right, up and at ‘em.”
Then Jason was pulling Dyl up off the floor. Dyl knew this was coming, but he absolutely despised it. It made the wooziness in his head crest, making the entire world feel like it was tilting on its axis.
“Jason,” Dyl whined. He didn’t know where he was going with it, just that his friend was doing the moving and moving was bad.
“Not quite.” The—not Jason said. Dyl cracked his eyes open again only to be met with a face full of blue. His head was hanging in a way that gave him view of the insignia of blue on his rescuers chest.
“Ugh,” Dyl groaned. He was going to be hearing about this for ages. “Rude.”
“Rude?!” Dick exclaimed. He kept walking forward, probably aiming to get them out of the bank.
“Uh, yeah,” Dyl stated like it was obvious. It was to Dyl, but maybe Dick needed a little helping along. “You’re not Jason. Duh.”
Dick was quiet for several seconds. Dyl would have been tempted to think he left if not for the fact that his arm was still around Dick’s shoulder, and they were still walking forward. “Should I just drop you?”
“Would Jason show up?” Dyl found his mouth saying, completely without his say so. What! Sue him! He wanted to see his gym buddy!
“Dude,” Dick said half sardonic half concerned. “You two need therapy.”
“I mean yeah but not for that,” Dyl countered. The lights hitting Dyl’s eyelids lost its harsh edge. They had reached a place without florescent lights. Dyl opened his eyes once the light type changed. “Did you at least bring me my comfort blanket?”
Dick stopped walking. Dyl was unsure if that was because of the fact that they reached their destination, or his words. The world tilted as they stayed stationary. Dyl smartly closed his eyes again. The word couldn’t tilt if Dyl wasn’t looking at it.
“What the fuck is a comfort blanket?”
“Its blue and soft and Jason would have brought it.” Dyl stressed while trying his best to fight the nausea that started crawling up his throat.
“I’ll drop you.”
“No, wait—” Dyl immediately regretted everything. He did not want to be on his own two feet by himself right now. The floor had yet to stop moving even if he wasn’t looking at it. Traitor. “Please do not do that.”
“I do have to put you down,” Dick at least sounded a bit contrite about that. “We’re at the Batmobile.”
“Oooo,” Dyl couldn’t help the little smile that came to his face. It pinched the growing bruise on his cheek. “Do I get to drive?”
“You can barely walk. You cannot drive.”
Stupid Dick and his stupid common sense. He was tempted to say that Jason would have let him drive, but that was way too much of a lie. They both knew that Jason’s massive overprotective tendencies would not allow Dyl to drive the Batmobile when even slightly injured.
“Fine,” Dyl trailed the word out long instead.
He let himself get put into the Batmobile. He refused to open his eyes for it, which probably wasn’t the best idea. It ended up having Dick have to manipulate him in order to not knock his head against the frame of the car.
“You’re concussed again, aren’t you?” Dick asked once they were both in the Batmobile. The car rumbled to life. Dyl usually appreciated the sound, but right now it was terrible.
“Absolutely not.” Dyl managed to put his seatbelt on. It helped that he could open his eyes without the bright light bombarding him and the ground underneath him betraying him. Sitting down was great. “Some chemicals or something. I’m woozy.”
“Okay,” Dick sing-songed. Dyl watched as he pressed something on the control panel of the car before starting to drive. Dyl wanted so bad to know what all the buttons did. “I’m in-bound with our favorite hostage. We’ll need a tox screen.”
“Aw, I’m you’re favorite!” Dyl said with his most shit-eating grin.
The Batmobile started moving. Dyl had a hard time deciding if it made him feel better or worse. He closed his eyes again, hoping that would help. the dark interior of the Batmobile plus Dyl’s general state of exhaustion made him want to fall asleep.
“You grew on us like mold.” Dick replied, which sounded like a very Jason thing to say.
“I’m gonna nap now.” Dyl let his head rest against the seat behind him. “Good night!”
The last thing Dyl heard was Dick’s panicked refusal. Eh. It would be fine! A little nap never hurt Dyl, after all. Maybe he’d even wake up with a blanket; that would be great.
(He did, but a thin blanket on a medical cot was NOT what he had in mind.)